Oz: Ballad Of The Fallen Czar(Vol. 1)

1. 𝕳𝖊𝖑𝖑'𝖘 𝕯𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙

It echoed in her ears, silent subtle whispers of a repeating mantra, piercing through her mind. The asylum was brought ablaze in her memories, once more. The macabre series of events that she tried, again and again, to suppress deep inside finally set loose; The long wails, overlapping one and another, along with the begs of those who lived in constant nightmares. Waiting for death to whisk their soul away.

That's how it was, her reality.

A bright flash, along with a deep rumbling thunder, illuminated the dark sorrowful room of four walls, a worn mattress, a rotten drawer, and a shattered mirror, for a split second. The door stood before her, tall and foreboding. No matter how hard she twisted and pulled the handle, it would never open. Locked from the outside. Trapped in that shit-hole like a pathetic dog in a cage.

The girl sat on the mattress, ignoring the hard springs that slowly, yet uncomfortably pushed against her legs and back. Her hands were concealed beneath the folds of her nightgown in an attempt to seek even the slightest bit of warmth from the cold night air, infested with rain. The nightgown, she took a deep meaningful gaze, once belonged to her sweet Aunt Em. The only item that held a deep, sentimental value. Yet, the dress that she held dear, was the very same thing that felt as though, teasing her. Taunting her of the nightmare that was her life, with the constant reminder of her warm abode amid a vast prairie, the lovely woman who would spend her time at night before bedtime to read stories, and the charming gentleman who would supply her useful advice whenever she needed. It broke her heart entirely.

Lifting her head, she stared hopelessly at what was left of the mirror. The girl, once cheeky and colorful, stared back. Her face was pale and hurt, beaten by the monsters that lurk before the walls of the asylum. Her brown hair, once deemed her crown and jewel, was now disheveled and unkempt, left tangled down to her waist. Her eyes burned, as her head felt an unconventional pain.

Another crash of thunder made her wince. A silhouette of the tall figure stood still behind the shadows of a corner. His hands were gangly, his legs weak. His height is almost abnormal, reaching seven feet high.

The shadow of a long-gone friend.

"Scarecrow?"

Her dried lips trembled and quivered. Not knowing what to say or what to do after years of separation from a friend the girl could never, for the life of her, forget. "You're here... You're finally here- You're going to save me aren't you?"

The figure shambled towards her, revealing his feature under the dim luminosity of the lamp that dangled from the ceiling above. The man of hay, sack and cheap fabrics drew close. His mouth, his stitched lips, crooked into a wide sympathetic smile. His black button eyes focused on hers. Gradually, his hand lifted from his weightless torso, pointing towards the doorway with his gloved finger, now open and free.

The girl shifted her body across the mattress and placed her feet on the cold, chilled concrete floor. Sending a sort of shiver that fortunately did not last long.

Her nightgown trailed behind her, like a bride walking down the aisle. The girl passed the Scarecrow. Something had held her back from hurling her meek body toward her old friend. A bitter, lonely feeling nestled in her heart. Though she knew, they would meet again. After she discovers what lies before the doorway. 

Discover what brought the sparks and flames to rise through the atmosphere. Discover what brought the ashes to flail.

The blazing fire of hell. The building, its content, and its patients are fated to be the fuel. The companions of the fire, damned to a torturous eternity. Smoke quickly invaded her nose, bringing her to clasp a handkerchief over her fast. "Mr. Scarecrow, please!" she pleaded. Her voice trembled over the overwhelming crackling of the fire. "Aren't you coming with me?"

"I might be fearless, my girl." His voice, his tone; empty, monotonic, eerily lacking sympathy "But I am made of hay. I am liable to expire even by a single lighted match. I am afraid you must leave me."

"You have to help me!" she shrieked.

"Find Nick, he'll help you."

Leaving her with that, the door closed shut. Abandoning the little girl in the hellish corridor. He did say to find Nick Chopper, but where the hell can she find him? But that gave her hope.

Sweat covered her body entirely in such a short time as if the girl had just danced in the rain. 'I can't stay here,' a thought moaned from the back of her mind. No, she could not, the fire would eat away at her skin, her flesh, in a matter of seconds. 

So she shuffled across the floor, struggling to even have a clear look as the smoke tore her eyes. The girl let out a painful cough. It had been weeks since she last got out of the room, yet the way to the exit was still fresh in her mind as if it had just been yesterday that she was admitted to the hospice.

She was about to take a step down the corridor; She was sure, the corridor led to the west wing of the building, which certainly led to the stairs that landed on the ground floor, before she was interrupted by a shattered window, bringing her to a scream.

It was then when she heard it, as the shock subsided; the wails of those imprisoned in their rooms, burned until their bones turned black, and echoed with the crackle.

Her eyes widen in horror, holding back the tears that threaten to escape. Listening to them begging for their life made her tremble. Again and again, she assured herself that she needed to escape, rejecting the overpowering urge to fall to the tiled floor, crying and begging as they all did. Bargaining with the devil for her life. With a silent apology, she shuffled across the hall, leaning against one side of the wall, straining her airway with nothing but a simple cloth as the agonizing heat seared her skin.

She let out a cough, and a loud, desperate sob. She was admittedly afraid. Terrified and overwhelmed by the monstrosity of the fire. How it quickly swallowed the building whole. Barbarous.

Another window shattered which brought her surprise. She could not find the will to move on, her sight limited by the smoke and flame.

The girl choked on her breath as a slither of smoke trailed down her trachea, quickly invading her lungs.

Tears brimmed her eyes. She could feel the bitter taste through her nose as it did in her throat, forming nauseating phlegm that brought her to cough, steadily expanding in mass, clogging her throat. She could feel it forming at the very start of her tongue, and she was suffocating. She felt her own heartbeat pounding in her ear. So rapidly beating as if it could burst at any minute. Dorothy pressed her hand flatly across her chest, in a helpless attempt to soothe it.

With the little strength in her body, Dorothy Gale steadily stepped through the perilous hall; facing the fiery beast.